


You're Speaking My Language

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Acts of Devotion, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts, The Five Love Languages, Words of Affirmation, physical touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: If you want to get through to someone, you have to reach them in a way they'll appreciate. And everyone has a different way they want to receive affection.





	1. Receiving Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Five ficlets based on the Five Love Languages. Mostly friendshippy, a couple actual shippy. I'm working my way back through the series now so if any of this is... not really canon congruent, it's my bad. It's all season 6 oriented, but I only just finished watching season 3 so I'm possibly (probably) misremembering some shit.

"What's all this?" Brock frowned down at the box Hank had pushed into his hands. Hank blinked and his shoulders caved in, suddenly making him look like the little kid he no longer was.

"It's... I thought you'd like it," Hank said.

"It's not my birthday or anything."

"I know that," Hank said, annoyance creeping into his voice to replace the momentary embarrassment. "It made me think of you, that's all. If you don't want it just--"

"I never said that," Brock said, and he tore the wrapping paper off the box and lifted the lid. His eyes widened. "Holy--"

"It's made out of a meteorite!" Hank said in a rush as Brock lifted the knife out of the box. "I know it's more fancy than you like and you have your knife you love already but I just... I thought you'd like it." Brock couldn't take his eyes off of it. The metal was dark but gleamed with a near iridescence, and the balance was immaculate when he tested it on a finger. It was so sharp that it drew blood from his fingertip even though he didn't feel a thing. 

"Hank, this must have cost a fortune."

"Nah. I got connections," Hank said with obvious pride. Brock arched a brow but didn't press, and after a second Hank bounced on his toes and blurted, "Gary was telling me about this website and it turns out they'll just like give you stuff if you make an endorsement -- well, if I did-- well I might have said I was you but I knew you'd like it! You do, don't you?"

"It's beautiful," Brock said. "Did you really use my name?"

"I might have uh, taken a photo of me in your jacket from behind and blurred it a little but I didn't think you'd mind," Hank said, and Brock's lips twitched up slightly. "As soon as I saw it I knew you should own it." Brock put the knife back into the box and squeezed Hank's shoulder.

"Thank you, Hank. I love it." For a second Hank looked up at Brock with a huge grin, and then Brock caught him in a one armed hug and he squeaked at the squeeze he was given. "This means a lot to me."

"You have to kill some epic bad guys with it," Hank said. Brock huffed a laugh. Murder wasn't on his mind with an armful of the closest thing he had to a son.


	2. Quality Time

"You don't have to worry about me," the Alchemist said, crossing his arms as soon as he opened his door. "I'm not a kid any more. I can handle a breakup better than I did in college."

"I have no doubts about that," Orpheus said, and he lifted the pot he was carrying in both hands. "Are you really going to send me away when I made curry noodles, though?"

"With the baby corn?" Al visibly wavered.

"And extra water chestnuts..."

"Oh, get in here. You big cheater." Orpheus set the food down on Al's table and turned to regard his friend with solemn eyes. "Don't look at me like that! I'm _fine_. Maybe I skipped a meal or two--"

"Al..." Al huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine! Maybe I haven't bought groceries since he dumped me. I'm an ascetic, I can handle a little fasting."

"I am here to feed not only your body but your soul, old friend!"

"You're not my therapist, Byron."

"No. You've revealed things to me that you'd never tell a therapist. And I hold your confidences in the innermost chamber of my heart!" Al gave him a skeptical look, and Orpheus sighed. "I'm not here to force you to talk. Merely to share a meal and some company. I hate to leave you alone with your heart so recently bruised."

"So you don't want the juicy details?" Al asked archly, pulling two plates from his cupboard and setting two places at the table on adjoining sides. Orpheus pressed his lips together in a poor repression of a smile.

"If you need to unburden yourself of recent events, my ear and my shoulder are ever at your disposal!"

"Well, buckle in, because have I got a story for you." Orpheus hadn't been sure that merely feeding his friend would loosen the floodgates, but they'd known each other long enough for it to be a highly educated guess. He scooped out some curry noodles and vegetables onto Al's plate and motioned at his fork.

"Talk between bites. You look like a strong breeze might blow you away!" Al picked up his fork, vehemently stabbed a baby corn, and started bitching as soon as he swallowed. This could take all night, but there was no place Orpheus would rather be than here, offering his support.


	3. Words of Affirmation

"Oh my _god_ ," the Monarch gasped as he slammed the door of the Morphmobile shut behind him. He'd barely made both feet in the vehicle before Gary was getting them the fuck out of Dodge. "Oh my god, oh my god, did you just really do that?"

"What part of it?" Gary asked breathlessly. To be fair, he had done almost all of it, except for the part that had been sheer serendipity. Not that serendipity usually manifested in someone's head exploding, but given that the guy who'd blown up had been training a gun on the Monarch, Gary was willing to take a miracle in whatever shape it cared to present itself. From the look on the Monarch's face when Gary stole a sideways glance, he was going to be given the credit for it.

"Did you just save my fucking life eight times in thirty seconds?" From Gary's count, it was more like sixteen times in four minutes, but before he could quibble the Monarch went on. "You are... fucking invaluable. Priceless. Irreplaceable. You are the _man_!"

"Me?"

"Is there another tactical genius in this car? I sure as fuck didn't do it!"

"You're not going to take credit for it?"

"For... No! That was all you! Do you know how many times I would be dead without you?"

"Tonight or altogether?"

"Do you keep track of the altogether?"

"Nobody's that obsessive," Gary said out loud, but he thought _two hundred and eighty three if you count serendipity._ The Monarch didn't say anything, and Gary shot another quick glance at him only to meet dark eyes already staring at him. "It's just my job," he said, trying to play off how much it meant to him, but the Monarch shook his head.

"You have gone so far above and beyond the call of duty lately."

"Yeah, well, Sheila would be pissed if I dragged your corpse home," Gary said, as if he was likely to survive an encounter that took out his boss... or to survive his boss's wife's wrath if she found out what they'd been doing because her husband had bit it in pursuit of his vigilante career.

"She's going to be pissed at us regardless of whether we die, I think."

"Not unless we majorly fuck up."

"We'd better be careful, then." The Monarch lapsed into silence but kept staring at Gary. Gary didn't really mind. They were nearly back to their base of operations when that reedy voice broke the silence again. "You're amazing, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'd be lost without you."

"Isn't that what you should be telling your wife?" Gary tried not to startle when the Monarch reached over and settled a hand on his shoulder.

"Gary... I mean it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gary said as he brought the Morphmobile in for a landing. Getting the Monarch to use his name was usually a struggle. This easy acknowledgement... was more like a gift. One that Gary would treasure for ages.


	4. Acts of Devotion

"I'm home," Sheila called, tossing her hat, keys, and briefcase on the table by the door and sighing deeply. Going to Meteor Majeure was exhausting and stressful. All she wanted to do was relax. She wasn't sure if that would be easier or harder in the absence of her husband and their henchman. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Welcome home, honeybuns," the Monarch said, coming out of the kitchen in his house robe with a glass of rose wine he handed to her as he leaned down to kiss her. "How'd it go?"

"It was fine," she said, and took a long sip of the wine. "I'm on the verge of getting a consensus. It's like herding cats, I swear."

"Well, if anyone can manage it, you can." He followed her upstairs to the bedroom and sat down on the bed while she undressed, and she turned to let him unzip her dress, then handed him her glass as she slipped out of it. "Want a backrub?"

"Not with ulterior motives," she griped. "I'm too tired for it right now." His face fell slightly, but he recovered quickly.

"How about a bubble bath, then?" 

"That does sound nice."

"Give me two minutes." He kissed her forehead as he passed her on his way out of the room, and she sighed and sat on the bed, swirling the wine in her glass before finishing it off. It might not be the brightest idea to chug it down like that with nothing in her stomach, but... for the rest of the night, no one was expecting anything from her, so she might as well. And it was very good wine. Setting down the empty glass, she shed the rest of her clothes and slid into a robe, noting that it smelled freshly laundered. The thought of the Monarch settling into being a house husband was ridiculous enough to make her laugh. "What's funny?" he asked as he came back into the room, and she shook her head.

"Nothing."

"If you say so... follow me, my Queen." There was still a smile on her lips as she followed him into the bathroom and then stopped in the doorway with a gasp. There were candles lining the vanity, the tub was heaped with clouds of sweetly-scented bubbles, and on a stool by the head of the tub was a bowl of cut strawberries and the rest of that rose wine in its bottle in a bucket of ice. "Oh, let me get your glass!" He rushed back to the bedroom to fetch it, and she bent to dip her fingers into the tub, humming to herself to find it at the perfect temperature. He came back a moment later, and only when she knew he was watching did she let the robe fall to the floor and gracefully step into the tub.

"Ohh this is nice," she sighed, and he knelt by the tub, gathering her hair into a swirl around his finger before clipping it up on her head to keep it off her neck and out of the water. "Thank you, sweetie."

"Don't thank me yet," he said, and picked up a strawberry to offer it to her. She bit it out of his fingers and her eyes slid shut as she chewed it. "Can I rub your feet for you?"

"You're being awfully solicitous," she said, and opened her eyes slightly, lids lowered with pleasure. "What did you fuck up?"

"Nothing!" he said, pure offense in his tone. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. You've been under a lot of stress. And I know you hate space travel."

"That's true," she said, and took her refilled glass when he offered it to her. "Yes, I'd enjoy a foot rub." He moved down and dipped his hand into the water to run it along her leg until she lifted her foot out of the bubbles. 

"Your polish is getting worn... I should repaint these for you." He took her foot in both hands and ran his thumbs over her instep, and her toes curled ticklishly. After as long as they'd been together, he knew just how she liked to be handled, and she sank a little lower in the tub with a pleased murmur as he rubbed the ache out of one foot and started in on the other. "Do you want to talk about today or do you not want to think about it?"

"I don't want to think about it." She reached for another strawberry and watched her husband lift her foot and press his lips to the top of it.

"Whatever you want, my love."

"You know what I really want?"

"Is it food?"

"Maybe."

"Is it sushi?"

"...yes."

"Would you like it while you're in the bath, would you like it in the bedroom, or would you like to go out for it?"

"I think I'd like you to bring it to me and then I'd like to eat it off of you." His eyes widened and then he smirked.

"I thought you said you were too tired for it."

"Eating sushi off you doesn't presume sex."

"It doesn't?"

"...yeah, okay, it does. Maybe I changed my mind." His smirk became a grin, and he let go of her foot to let it sink back into the water. "You are being awfully good to me right now. And I know you'll be even better if I let you."

"You want your usual?" She nodded, and he got to his feet and stretched, giving her a nice eyeful of pale skin. She reached up to slap his ass and he growled playfully. "I'll be back in a flash." Settling back into the tub, Sheila sipped her wine and considered how many times she wanted to bite that tight ass in between bites of sushi. The food would probably be there in about forty-five minutes if he was ordering it now. That was plenty of time for her to enjoy her bath and wash away the stresses of the day.


	5. Physical Touch

After all the dangerous shit he did, it just fucking figured that the Monarch would break his ankle on the broken sidewalk outside of the house. It was so stupid that it was almost inevitable. He hated being laid up, but he hated stumping up and down the stairs on his stupid crutches even more.

"Just admit that you were wrong," Sheila said, and he rolled his eyes and turned his nose up. "I told you that we needed to fix the outside _and_ the inside of the house."

"We shouldn't have to fix the sidewalk! It's city property!"

"I knew it would be a problem," she said, and he huffed. She shook her head and ran her fingers through his hair, and he looked up at her, lips pressed together. "You're so stubborn."

"You love that about me."

"I love _you_ ," she corrected him. "Not your stubbornness, so much. It won't kill you to say that I was right." She gave his hair a gentle tug, and he huffed again.

"You were right," he said grudgingly, and her lips tilted up slightly. 

"See? Was that so hard?" She bent to kiss his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his lips. "I'll be back around eight tonight, if nothing goes wrong. If you need anything, Gary promised me he'd take good care of you."

"Oh, did he?" It wasn't exactly like the shift in their relationship hadn't been the Monarch's fault. He didn't think he should be held responsible for the things he said while he was on morphine, but revealing that he wanted to get his hands (and mouth, and various other body parts) on their henchman had been met with understanding on Sheila's part and utter delight on Gary's part. Not that they'd had much of a chance to realize those doped-up confessions in the four days since they'd been made, beyond stolen kisses when Gary carried the Monarch between floors of the house.

"Don't come on too strong with him," Sheila said, amusement rich in her voice. "You're gonna scare the poor thing off."

"Come on, he's a grown man," the Monarch whined, and she shook her head.

"I'm not worried about him being fragile. I'm worried about you being overbearing."

"I'm not--" She fixed him with a skeptical look, and he sighed. "Fine, I am. But I'll try not to be."

"That's my Monarch." She kissed him again and turned to leave, and he waited a good eight seconds after she closed the door behind her to text Gary. 

_hey come here I need you_

A minute later the door opened and Gary peeked in. "You rang?"

"Yeah. Come over here."

"You need to go somewhere?" Gary came over to the bed with a look of hopeful anticipation, and the Monarch reached up to catch the collar of his t-shirt and pull him down to be kissed. "Mm! Oh."

"Only if you don't want to hang out in here," the Monarch said, gesturing to the other side of the bed. "There's not a whole lot to do up here though."

"Do you, um... we could go watch something, or play a game, or I could carry you all the way downstairs, or... we could make out," Gary said, turning pink, already walking around to the other side of the bed. "If it's not too early or--"

"Too early to make out? Have you never heard of morning sex? There's no such thing as too early to make out." That was all the invitation Gary needed. He cuddled right up to the Monarch's side, wrapped an arm around him, and huffed a laugh.

"I always fall for super skinny guys," he said. "I guess I have a type."

"I thought evil was your type," the Monarch said, and Gary shrugged.

"Maybe I have a couple of types and you hit more than one of them." He ran his hand up and down the Monarch's arm and added, "I don't think you have a type, as far as I can tell."

"I do too. My type is ultra competent villains."

"Oh yeah?"

"I didn't really start to notice you until you became a badass."

"That's fair." 

"Do me a favor?"

"Sure thing."

"Take your pants off and get back in the bed." Gary kicked off his sweatpants in about half a second without getting up and found himself with a lap full of supervillain immediately. 

"Whoa." The Monarch hesitated from the kiss he had been going in for, and Gary put his hands on skinny shoulders to draw him in a little more slowly. "You're a little, um..."

"Overbearing?"

"I was going to say fast. Or maybe easy."

"I'm both fast and easy."

"I'm... not really either of those things." Gary offered the Monarch an apologetic smile. "Is it okay if we take things a little slower?"

"Are you shy?"

"No. I just want to touch you without rushing through it. I've kind of been admiring your body for a while and I just..." Gary smoothed his hands down the Monarch's back and squeezed his ass gently, getting a purr out of him. "Especially if we have the whole day to do whatever we want. I'd like to take my time touching you."

"That's fine by me." Gary tucked his face into the bend of the Monarch's neck, stubble grazing pale skin when he nuzzled in before sinking his teeth just above the Monarch's collarbone while his hands swept slowly up and down his back. "Oh, fuck. Did she tell you to do that?"

"I don't need to be told what I have eyes to see," Gary mumbled into his skin, but he curled a hand around the other side of his neck and thumbed the mark that Sheila had left there a few days before. "Why, am I not allowed to do that?"

"Allowed?" The Monarch laughed breathlessly. "You're allowed. You're encouraged. Keep touching me and you can get away with pretty much any kind of way you want to touch."

"Good to know," Gary said, and rolled them over so he was holding himself up over the Monarch, careful not to jostle his broken ankle. "Cause I've had a few ideas..."


End file.
